Daughter of Evil
by SlenderMonkey
Summary: The months leading up to the Mansion Incident and the eventual contamination and sterilization of Raccoon City were lived in ignorance. Life went on as usual, until the creeping evil forced its way out from under the watchful eye of Umbrella and destroyed everything. Something in Sherry Birkin knows that the end is near. But, is she ready to accept giving up her imperfect life?
1. Chapter 1

June 23, 1998

Sherry gazed thoughtfully out the window, over the orderly hedges of the school grounds, into the rest of the suburbs. Reflecting what the teachers and news reports were telling her, it appeared much more dangerous outside. The grey skies over Raccoon City were unusually dark for this time of year, almost as if it composed a shadow of something unwholesome and altogether beyond Sherry's virginal understanding. Truthfully, she was unnerved by the news of the recent serial murders as much as any other eleven-year-old, but the brutality of the situation gave the young girl a sense of unreality disorienting to her tender years. Sherry was old enough to appreciate the fact that people could die, but... to die in that way... _eaten_ by something, or someone... It was like something out of an old fairy tale, or...

Lowering her hand from her chin, Sherry spoke the words inaudibly, "a horror movie".

"Miss Birkin! Is what's in the hedges so much more interesting to you?"

Sherry flinched as she realigned herself in the desk, apologizing to the glowering Mr. Sarton. She never liked her teacher much, and Mr. Sarton had gotten noticeably more unpleasant in the last few weeks. Rumor had it that there was trouble in his family, but Sherry never liked to pry with that sort of thing. Sarton stared through her for a few more seconds, then looked at the clock and immediately resumed the lesson. Sherry's shoulders relaxed; class was almost over, so even the tightly-wound history teacher didn't care much about her slip-up. Not with three minutes left.

"Right, so," Sarton began again with an agitated flourish of chalk. "Our city's beginning was not like other mid-size communities in the United States. The first buildings were planned and constructed in the 1960s, with the help of Michael Warren, our current mayor, and Lord Ozwell Spencer, the founder of Umbrella Pharmaceutical. Raccoon City was built for the purpose of supporting Umbrella as it was just getting started. I don't have to tell you how important the company is to this city, since nearly all of your parents must work for Umbrella in some way."

Here, the stern-faced teacher moved his gaze back to Sherry, who quailed ever so slightly under the staring. What Sarton said was true, and all the other kids in Sherry's class had parents with jobs directly or indirectly related to the pharmaceutical giant. Resource allocator, security guard, accountant, forklift driver... Most of it was pretty dull stuff, but for Sherry, it was different. Her father was a _scientist_; one who was extra important and who won awards, and was so famous that even children Sherry's age had heard his name at least once: Dr. William Birkin. Her father also ensured that Sherry was the only student in her class who was without a parent on Family Career Day. Annette, her mother, was almost as busy as her husband, and couldn't come either, though she worked in the same department.

The remainder of the lecture was just as boring as its beginning. Taking quick glances at the desks around her, Sherry could tell from their body language that the other children were waiting out the clock as patiently as they could. Today was Friday, and Sherry was glad that her class had reached the end of the week-long 'local history' unit. It seemed odd to her that Mr. Sarton would be covering the early days of modern Raccoon at the very end of it all. Prior to this, the focus had been mostly on tedious anecdotes and generic economic reports that would have sailed over the heads of most preteens, had they been listening. At last, the bell rang from the hallway.

"So, that's that," said Sarton, closing his books briskly. Despite teaching a Grade Six class, his teaching style was more akin to that which might be found at the university level. This sort of lecture-focused education didn't bother Sherry so much, but she was aware of the complaints her peers made to no one in particular about the largely one-sided instruction.

"For Monday, make sure you bring a newspaper article about how Umbrella has given back to the community."

Sherry felt slightly groggy as she got to her feet, but her train of thought went right back to the grim subject she had left off on. As she gathered her belongings and went out into the hall, she didn't notice passing by Tabitha until she called out to Sherry.

"Sherry!" said a dark-skinned girl with long braided hair.

"Hi, Tabitha!" said Sherry, her more reserved grin contrasting her friend's wider, toothy one. She knew that it was Tabitha before even recognizing her voice; no other girls here were on a first-name basis with Sherry. The girl was in a separate class, but a common interest in extracurricular learning had enabled a realization for their shared love of pop music as well as science.

"Did you bring my CD back?" asked Tabitha.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks so much for lending it to me. There's not a lot of newer music at my house."

Handing over the CD case taken from her bag, Sherry felt a warm sensation of being able to relate with someone her age, even if it was limited. Jane's parents worked long hours at a subsidiary of Umbrella, and she was needed at home to look after her much younger brother.

"So, have you fallen in love with any of them?" Tabitha was referring to the membership of this particular boy band. Her head tilted and hands clasped in a girlish gesture. Sherry blushed very slightly.

"Nah, I like their music, but I don't think any of them are my type."

This was not exactly a lie; Sherry had started to think of boys in general as 'pretty cool' some months ago, when previously, she would have thought every boy was inherently gross. One of the singers had a really cool haircut, with long bangs parted to the side, and the whimsical part of Sherry fancied having a boyfriend with hair like that. Still, she was too young to be thinking with any serious desire.

"I'll see you Monday! Have a good weekend!" said Tabitha as she quickly walked toward the exit. Sherry knew Tabitha was busy, but felt a little sad as she waved goodbye.

Walking home was always a brief, solitary affair for Sherry. The Birkins lived just half a block away from the elementary school. "Convenient," as William called it. In consequence, Sherry would invariably watch most of the other students jog right past her, often in the direction away from her house, without a second glance. Sherry spied her mother's car in front of their house nearly immediately after leaving the school. Upon opening the front door with her key, Annette called to her from the living room.

"Hello, Sherry."

"Hi, Mom," said Sherry, the somewhat unfamiliar phrase getting half-stuck in her throat as it came out. Annette stood up and approached her daughter.

"We're going out to meet some of your father's friends tonight. William! What do you want us to wear?"

"Oh, just what you would wear here, dear; it's nothing formal."

William Birkin's low voice came into earshot as his wife and child watched him descend the staircase. He was still wearing his tie and lab coat, though that didn't necessarily mean that he just got home.

"You want me to come with you?" said Sherry.

"Well, of course," said William kindly, crouching down to her level. "I'm thinking that you'll want to see how grown-ups who work together talk to each other when they're not at work. You could do with learning more about these things."

"But Dad, it's so rare that you get to be home at night." Sherry smiled weakly even as she sagged. "This week I was thinking about going to Raccoon Park together. They've got classical music playing tonight with a fountain display!"

William's face grew dark as he averted his eyes from his daughter's gaze. "Now, Sherry, you know how dangerous the area has gotten lately, especially after dark..."

"Just on the city outskirts!" she pleaded.

"Yes, well, the park is too close to Raccoon Forest for my liking. Anyway, honey, we can do that some other time, I promise."

Sherry turned her gaze downward. She knew her father well enough to know that the finality of his phrasing made it pointless to argue any more.

* * *

"Sherry, honey, did you fix your hair?"

"Yes, Mom." The tone was quite flat, both from mother and daughter. Annette insisted that Sherry take off her red hairband before they came, and comb it to look more presentable. Annette Birkin was wearing a midnight blue evening gown with matching heels, and had implied to Sherry that she wanted her to wear her best clothes. Later seeing his daughter taking out a pleated red dress, William stopped her.

"Won't you be uncomfortable in that, Sherry? It's not a fancy dinner, you know."

Sherry ended up wearing a short denim dress with black leggings. It was the same outfit that she had selected for Raccoon Park. She planned on wearing a hairband with it, but thought it would be best to do what each of her parents wanted.

The Apple Inn was the largest and most luxurious hotel in Raccoon City, but it was also extremely popular for its restaurant. There were an expectedly large amount of patrons when Sherry entered, but the maître d' greeted her father warmly, and waited to the side as William shook hands with other men who had just come in. Sherry lowered her head when she saw that they were all wearing suits. Turning, she could also see the female diners in much the same evening wear as her mother.

"You be on your best behavior!" said Annette, her stern face increasing in severity. "These are very important people, Sherry." Sherry's frown intensified accordingly. She had certain feelings about the adult, corporate world that her mother and father was so entrenched in, and she expected that there would be Umbrella superiors William would want to impress at this arranged dinner. It was the kind of formal event that Sherry would have been proud to dress in her finery for, trying to fit in with the elegant ladies.

"Annette, you've already met Greg McDaniels, head of HR; Philip, with Chemical Repurposing..." Sherry fumed internally as Philip Mortensen gave her a condescending smirk reserved for children. His daughter Cassandra was in the same grade as her. Sherry could expect Mr. Mortensen to give Cassandra an earful of what poor-looking clothes Sherry was wearing, and if the daughter took after the father and his scruffiness. William was wearing a suit, but he hadn't bothered to shave, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his commitment to his personal laboratory.

"And Albert Wesker," William concluded, actually stepping out of the way so the powerful-looking man could be taken in in his entirety, his slicked-back blond hair glinting dully in the reduced lighting. Sherry felt her irritation leave her, replaced by something unfamiliar. Looking up at the statuesque newcomer, Sherry experienced something that wasn't quite discomfort, but still disorienting.

"Albert is an old friend of mine; I think I mentioned him a few times before," said William, speaking to his wife. "He's with the police department now. Head of the S.T.A.R.S. division."

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Wesker," said Annette, giving a forced smile and shaking his hand. "William says that you're something like riot police, aren't you?"

"Not exactly, ma'am." Wesker's tones were deep and regal, with a slight British accent. Sherry had heard people fake accents before, and she wasn't sure if this man was speaking with his natural voice, or if he was forcing something of a Mortensen-like affectation of being cultured. Whatever the case, Wesker's voice was certainly a memorable one. "Our unit is made of different specialists who investigate and respond to crimes with a different tack than ordinary police work, if you get my meaning."

"Let's head to the table, eh? No point in letting that reservation go to waste, William!" said the rotund Greg. "Really, how often do you lab rats have the rare treat of being let above ground? Especially with a project like yours -"

"I'd rather you didn't mention that outside the office, Greg," said William quickly, as the Birkin family and their three guests slid into an expansive booth. Sherry sat close in between her mother and father. Though not directly across from Wesker, Sherry was a little intimidated being this close to him. His eyes kept up with the conversation between adults, but they looked so penetrating and matte that the anticipation that they would turn her way was affecting her. Looking down at a menu, Sherry's cheeks grew hot, and she hoped Mr. Wesker wouldn't notice her blush. A special forces unit? The guys who are called when regular police aren't enough? The little girl's head was already awash in respect and imagination.

"Albert, when are you guys gonna go in and kick some cultist ass?" intruded Greg, tossing back his wine glass. "God knows there have been enough victims. And the cops definitely aren't up to the task. I say send in S.T.A.R.S.!"

Wesker chuckled softly. "Where do you want us to start, Greg? It's a big area to comb. All we have to go on is that all the people who disappeared or were attacked were in close proximity to the woods. Who's to say that the perpetrators don't move their camp around Raccoon Forest all the time?"

"Then they should be all over the place! Find some clues, evidence, predict where they'll strike next... something!"

While this exhange was occuring, Sherry noticed Wesker's eyes dart over to Mortensen, whose normally smarmy expression had become stonier. The man regained the smug look when Wesker had smiled, but Mortensen stopped looking at the others and kept his eyes focused on nothing in particular for the rest of the evening.

Dinner was fairly bland, or maybe it was delicious, but Sherry didn't notice. She was completely absorbed in the adults' conversation. Some of it was too advanced for her, but she was fascinated by the dialogue about the vast array of chemicals that Umbrella bought, made, and sold. Precocious about science, Sherry knew a fair amount about the materials being discussed, all of which seemed quite generic, though enlightening in their discussion of manufacturing. Another recurring topic was the utmost importance of company loyalty and security of information. Captain Wesker appeared to take these matters to heart, and found a way to elaborate on much of it from a police perspective.

Almost all of the talk at the dinner table was interesting, but Sherry kept looking at Wesker, even when he wasn't speaking. Once or twice he gave the girl a knowing look or nod that made her feel like he knew she was on the same page as the others. When the time came to leave, and the Birkins and their guests filed out into the gloomy parking lot, there was much hand-shaking and tense joking as everybody dispersed.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Birkin," said Albert Wesker, taking her small hand in his. Her heart skipped a beat, expecting him to crush her hand, but he purposefully weakened his grip after shaking hands with William. Sherry was glad that a commanding man like Wesker was a gentleman, but she kept watching him after making contact. Her palm felt… cold. It was like shaking hands with a plucked chicken; the man had the touch of living death to him.

Wesker smiled his confident smile, and donned a pair of rectangular sunglasses from his jacket pocket. Sherry raised an eyebrow as she watched him climb into his sedan and gun the engine. She had a feeling that wearing those was illegal in such a poorly lit area, but her admiration for the police captain wasn't diminished as she watched his car until it turned a corner and fell out of sight.

"Sherry?"

Mrs. Birkin called out, having opened the passenger door of the family car. Turning to look, Sherry saw that her father was already behind the wheel.

The drive home was more devoid of conversation than the Birkin household usually was, on account of fatigue and the impetus of travelling. Annette even looked as though she could be asleep, her eyes half-open. After stopping at a red light, Sherry asked her father in that obliging way she was so used to speaking in: "Dad? Is Mr. Wesker a hero?"

A dark flash came from William's eyes as he fixed on her in the rear-view mirror, but he chuckled.

"He's a police officer, sweetie. Of course he is."

"Since he's in the S.T.A.R.S. special forces, do you think he's helped a lot of people?"

"Sure. I've even been with Mr. Wesker at times when he's helping others."

"Dad," Sherry said, looking out the window. "I hope he catches all the bad guys who are eating people in the woods, don't you?"

"That's enough, Sherry; I've got a headache," came Annette's flat voice.

"I think there's some Safsprin in the glove box, dear," said William.


	2. Chapter 2

June 29, 1998

"Hopefully this shouldn't take too long," said Annette, very businesslike. Her smile was like that of a mechanic reassuring a customer. Sherry returned the superficial look as best she could, grimacing through the pain.

The incident had happened not long after Sherry got home from school that day. Sherry had volunteered to clean the house's gutters, and her perpetually busy parents had consented without much resistance. It was an accident more than a fault of Sherry's youth, but she had taken a hard fall from the ladder, all the same. Luckily, Annette hadn't yet left for work, and so the mother and daughter got to Raccoon Hospital's emergency room without much delay.

"Don't feel bad, Sherry," Annette continued. "I'll actually be able to take care of some work while we're here, so it's not a problem."

A heavy rain was pounding Raccoon City's suburbs yet again. Even in the waiting room, Sherry heard the muffled thunder reverberating throughout the building. Lifting the soaked umbrella away, Annette helped Sherry gingerly perch onto a chair. The girl held her damaged arm away from her, supporting it as she sat down.

"You okay?" Annette asked.

"I'm fine," said Sherry, giving what she thought was a brave smile. It still hurt, of course, but the greatest pain had been in the first few minutes after she landed hard on her left elbow. Now Sherry was scared that the bone could be broken; she'd never had an injury that bad before, and the mere thought of it made her queasy. Still, Sherry thought, at least she could still write with her other hand.

"Hold on a minute, and I'll get you signed in," said Annette, absently stroking her daughter's hair before striding to the reception desk at the room's opposite end. Sherry looked around and saw just a few others waiting with her. Two or three were holding stabilized injuries, and the rest were just sitting with their heads hung. The only person in the emergency room who really stood out for Sherry was sitting across from her, not four meters away.

Sherry swallowed as she observed him, and the throbbing pain in her arm was temporarily forgotten. The man looked… sick. That thought made Sherry feel foolish as it came into her head, but in her experience, sick people rarely looked so _obviously_ sick. With his skin an ashen hue, a sheen of sweat shone brightly, soaking his clothes. The flannel shirt of the dishevelled person was in tatters, with a crude bandage wrapped around one arm. A small amount of blood had leaked out and dried on part of the soiled linen.

_Something must be really, really wrong with him_, Sherry thought, as she stared at the afflicted man. Strangest of all, he was almost completely motionless. His eyes downcast, a very slow, very deep series of breaths coming from him was the only indication that he was alive at all… barely.

"Sherry!"

With no recollection of how long she had been staring, Sherry jumped to her feet and looked backward in the direction of her mother's voice. After the young girl's first few steps, the injured man sat up straight with a low hiss, making Sherry flinch.

"N-nurse!" he choked out, immediately using his uninjured arm to bend and scratch his back furiously. "Nurse! I'm not sure I can wait much longer!"

"Come on, Sherry," came Annette's cool voice, bringing an arm across Sherry's chest and frog-marching the perplexed girl toward a side door.

"P-p-please…" the man continued, as he kept clawing furiously at his back. Two hospital staff were moving cautiously toward him. "Itchy. S-s-so… Itchy…"

"Mom, was that –?"

"Must've been a drug addict. Sorry you had to see something like that, sweetie."

Sherry trembled slightly as she and her mother moved out of the emergency room and followed an orderly toward an elevator. _I've never seen anyone like that before,_ she thought. _Whatever was wrong with him, it didn't look natural._

It didn't seem long before the Birkin women reached the fourth floor and stepped out.

"I'll just be down the hall, honey," said Annette, gesturing to a dead-end corridor before leaving the girl at what looked like a private patient's room.

The rest of Sherry's stay in the hospital was a blur, as the bewildered girl reviewed what she saw and silently tried to process everything. Her young mind whirred, only letting up to follow the attending physician's instructions. If the doctor noticed that his patient was troubled, he didn't show it.

Finally, Sherry was discharged, after learning that she hadn't broken any bones, but some slight nerve damage would make moving the arm painful for a while.

"Thanks," she said, trying to put her shirt back on with her uninjured arm.

With an oddly grim smile, the doctor waited until Sherry was dressed, and then he left the room. As Sherry followed at a distance, she heard the elevator's bell around the corner, and remembered her mother, working in the room in the opposite direction.

Turning to the left, Sherry hurried to the end of the hall, slowing pulling open the heavy door marked "data room" one-handed.

"Mom?"

Sherry expected to see something like the shelf of files and the cluttered desks inside, but as she walked past the first stack of papers, immediately behind it was…

"Oh."

A glass jar lay on the same surface as a bulky computer monitor and countless papers, all stamped with the tiny red and white Umbrella letterhead. Within the jar was… a frog? That's the only word Sherry thought to call it by, even though the specimen in the cloudy fluid was larger than a housecat. Dark patches of slimy skin gave it a patchwork appearance, and Sherry could see no trace of eyes on the creature.

"Sherry! What are you doing here?!" Annette's frantic voice preceded the outraged-looking woman bounding out from behind a shelf, brandishing a clipboard.

"Sorry, Mom, I, uh…" Sherry began, but her mother whisked her back through the door and continued directly to the elevator.

"My arm isn't broken, Mom," said Sherry, breaking the uncomfortable silence in the tiny descending lift. She then fell mute. Annette didn't make a sound, but Sherry could feel that she was furious.

The first floor of the hospital was deserted. Sherry hesitated momentarily, but followed her mother as she saw Annette walk straight for the exit.

"Come on, Sherry," she called, not turning her head.

In the shadowy reception area, Sherry trembled. She kept her injured arm close to her, and ran toward the glass doors, thankful for a sliver of sunlight she saw cutting through the dark clouds outside.


End file.
